Jacob watched Jack leave the group. She wasn't being very discrete, but that wasn't Jack's style anyway. He paid attention to Wynne a little longer before deciding he might have something better to do. Following Jack's direction and example, Jacob broke from the group and began walking towards the wooden platform.
"Where do you think you're going?" Miranda demanded quietly when she caught up to him.
"Scouting the area, trying to find more intel, something other than listening to myths about what we're up against. Wonder how Shepard puts up with it."Jacob waited for Miranda to admonish him but the lecture never came. Instead she followed him.
They stopped a short distance from the platform. The soldiers standing around didn't seem to notice them and continued to listen to the woman.
"She looks like a priest. Is she giving a sermon?" Miranda asked.
"Sounds like it." Both paused to listen. They watched the woman gesture grandly as she spoke and then at the soldiers staring wondrously up at her. "She keeps mentioning a Maker. I guess that's their creator deity."
"If we want to fit in we better start using their terminology," suggested Miranda.
"What? Instead of 'Oh, my God' we're supposed to say, 'Oh, my Maker'?" Jacob laughed.
Miranda glared at him. "No, I think they would say 'By the Maker.'"
Jacob chuckled. "Still sounds off to me. Better tell Tali to stop saying, "Keelah se'lai". She'd definitely give us away. If our weapons and technology didn't do that already," Jacob finished his last statement with sarcasm.
"Now that you've mentioned it, no one seems to be batting an eye at us. I'm going to guess that the people from this Orlais are very strange."
"Yeah, we're from a place full of crazies…great."
Muttering to himself, Mordin moved past Shepard when she stopped to talk to the elderly woman. He was trying to get as much data on the place as possible. So much data to collect and definitely not enough time especially with a battle looming. Disregarding what he might look like, Mordin used his omni-tool without discretion, scanning anything he found interesting: He recorded a small part of the sermon to study later. He took some discrete samples of some of the vegetation. He even scanned the weapons the quartermaster had on sale despite the raised eyebrow he got.
Eventually he made his way to what looked like the area for the wounded. He scanned them thoroughly, taking note of their symptoms and already concocting possible remedies. The woman tending to the soldiers watched as Mordin worked. Finally she ventured for a conversation, "These men have been infected by the darkspawn blood. There is nothing you can do for them. All I can do is make them more comfortable before they die."
"Hmm," Mordin mused as he reviewed his findings on his omni-tool. "Possible to make cure if allowed back on Normandy. Need samples. Wait, technology here would be incapable of reproducing cure. Waste of resources and time. Can only take her advice." Mordin injected the man with some simple painkillers.
The woman watched, amazed as the man under her care visibly relaxed and began breathing evenly. "That's…This is a miracle! You've cured him!" She threw her arms around him. "Oh, thank the Maker!"
Mordin carefully extracted himself. "Have not cured him. Only eased pain. Will still die. Unfortunate but no other option." He bustled over to the other patients and began administering the painkillers.
No matter how many times he tried to explain to both the dying men and the woman, they couldn't understand. He found it a bit harder to keep telling them they were still going to die; he had only made them comfortable for the inevitable. They all still looked up at him with misplaced gratitude. Sighing, Mordin moved away from the spot to continue his data collection.